Rewound
by ferries
Summary: If you had the chance to start over, what would you do differently?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This story is pretty out-there, and updates will most likely be slow so I apologize in advance.

**Disclaimer:** Obviously, I don't own Grey's Anatomy.

**Summary:** Set during the season 6 finale. Derek is dead, Cristina is dead, and Meredith doesn't want to keep fighting. There's a season 3-like "afterlife" premise, where Meredith is confronted by the dead. Except this time when she wakes up, it's four years earlier and her first day as an intern. That's pretty much as far as I've planned this story, so we'll see how the rest turns out.

**ooooo**

"Shoot me." Meredith stood at the edge of the OR. Her mind was blank, all rational thought eclipsed by emotion. Mr. Clark turned towards her, his gun pointed at Cristina. Meredith kept her eyes on his. She couldn't look at the man on the operating table. Not now, when she needed to do this.

"Meredith," pleaded Cristina.

"You want justice right? Your wife died, I know what happened. Derek told me the story. Lexie Grey is the one that pulled the plug on your wife, she's my sister. Dr. Webber, he was your wife's doctor. I'm the closest thing he has to a daughter. And the man on the table, I'm his wife. If you wanna hurt them, the way that you hurt, shoot me. I'm your eye for an eye."

"Meredith..."

Mr. Clark slowly swung his arm forward, training the gun on Meredith. He stepped towards her; slow, careful strides. The gun shook in his hand. Meredith's eyes flickered from Cristina, to Owen, to Jackson, to Derek. Her breathing hitched and she tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. "Tell Derek that I love him and that I'm sorry."

Cristina cried out and stumbled towards Meredith. Mr. Clark immediately turned and fired. Cristina was thrown backwards, unconscious as blood pooled from a shot to the side. Meredith collapsed to her knees. "No, no, no." Not Cristina. Not her person. Not because of her.

"We're losing him," exclaimed Jackson as the monitors beeped urgently.

Mr. Clark watched the monitors as the beeping increased in frequency, growing more and more urgent until they merged into a single continuous pitch. Flatline. Meredith screamed, pushing herself up shakily and lunging towards Mr. Clark. Another shot, and she was on the floor. Her vision flickered but she was conscious. In her line of vision was Cristina, her blood mixing with Meredith's. Slowly, she grabbed Cristina's hand. It was cold. Someplace far away, Jackson was pressing on her stomach and calling April from the scrub room.

"The baby," Meredith breathed. She was vaguely aware of April crying and holding her other hand. The lights of the OR were blindingly bright, and red and black flashes danced across her vision. It was too much to ask for her to keep fighting this time. Meredith sighed, and let herself be enveloped in the warmth of white light.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Well, I said the updates would be slow. I've had the beginning of this chapter written since I first started the story and suddenly felt inspired today. I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, but I haven't really proofread it. It'll probably be edited later.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Grey's Anatomy.

**ooooo**

Meredith was sitting at Joe's bar. It was late in the evening, but the normally busy bar was empty. A shot of tequila sat in front of her. She lifted the glass, toasting the empty space. The tequila burned a familiar path down her throat.

When she looked up, someone was behind the bar. He was already pouring her another shot. "Hi."

Meredith stared at the countertop. "Am I dead?"

"Yeah," he said apologetically. "You're dead." He slid her the glass.

"I don't understand," she said. She tossed back the fiery liquid. "Shouldn't I be in the Great Beyond, heaven or hell or something?"

George shrugged. "This is your party."

She didn't try to understand. She motioned for another shot. George grinned. "You're going to be sorry in the morning."

"I'm always sorry in the morning."

Meredith turned. The silent bar had suddenly become crowded with people. To her right sat herself, smiling at Joe as he set a shot of tequila on the countertop.

The other Meredith continued. "But, tomorrow I start my first day of work, so keep them coming." She lifted her glass to Joe and took a sip. And then…

"How ya doin'?" Meredith pushed away the sudden rush of emotion. There was Derek. He was young, confident, and carefree. Alive. Meredith turned back to George. The scene around her blurred as the voices were muted.

"Is this some kind of cosmic joke?" she demanded. George was quiet. He looked thoughtful.

The scene suddenly rushed back into focus.

"So if I know you I'll love you?" The other Meredith looked amused.

Derek grinned and said confidently, "Oh yes."

Meredith looked away. The bar was empty again.

"I'm sorry, Meredith," said George. Meredith turned toward him, but he was gone. Blackness crept at the edge of her vision. She slid off the barstool as a bright light blinded her. She reached toward the door, but only grasped air. The light grew brighter. The blackness formed a tunnel and she felt herself being pulled backwards. She was screaming as the bright light disappeared and there was only darkness.

Then she opened her eyes.


End file.
